


Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

by immistermercury



Series: A Night at the Opera [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, drawing on skin, freddie is still an artist at heart, they both can't wait for sunday afternoons for their time together, they're still in bed and it's afternoon, this is the definition of a drabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 10:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: Jim had always adored Freddie’s motherly insistence that Sunday afternoons were for lazing. The man had no concept of a Monday morning - either every day was a Monday morning, or every day was a Sunday afternoon - but he allowed himself to indulge in the philosophy anyway. He pressed a kiss to the top of Freddie’s head, feeling rather than seeing the curve of his lips into a pleased smile. Sunday afternoons were their time away from the rest of the world, the time when they would lie in bed with the balcony doors wide open, the fresh air from outside washing over them and encouraging them to curl closer for warmth.





	Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first official work of my A Night at the Opera series - I'm going to write a fic inspired by each song!

Freddie closed his eyes as he curled smaller, the blankets around him so warm and so comforting. Jim’s fingers ran through his hair as he yawned, his forehead pressed to the other’s chest. The rhythm was soothing; Jim knew that Freddie loved to be made a fuss of, gentle touches to give him constant attention without it requiring much energy on either behalf. His breathing was growing deeper, the hot breath fluttering over Jim’s bare skin, a feather light contrast to the heaviest of Freddie’s weight as he lay against him.

 

Lazy afternoons were best shared in bed, comfortable silence or the crackle of an old vinyl playing quietly, the time occupied with gentle, exploratory touches. Freddie would draw patterns on Jim’s side, occasionally tracing an old design over with a marker pen: hell to get off in the shower, but it somehow made his Monday mornings more bearable when he was wearing his lover’s artwork.

 

Freddie took one of Jim’s hands, tracing lazy circles into the palm; the hand that was so practical, so skilled, so often suffered from cramp that would only be soothed by absent-minded massages. He stretched out, acting like one of his own languid cats, seeming to somehow fit every protrusion of his own body into the contours provided, slotting himself into place like a puzzle piece. His hipbone sat just to the side of Jim’s thigh, his shoulder laying flat against the other’s broad chest. Jim had never thought himself one for smaller men, but somehow found the press of bones against his body comforting, found himself lazily tracing his hands over the dip and curve of Freddie’s collarbones.

 

Jim had always adored Freddie’s motherly insistence that Sunday afternoons were for lazing. The man had no concept of a Monday morning - either every day was a Monday morning, or every day was a Sunday afternoon - but he allowed himself to indulge in the philosophy anyway. He pressed a kiss to the top of Freddie’s head, feeling rather than seeing the curve of his lips into a pleased smile. Sunday afternoons were their time away from the rest of the world, the time when they would lie in bed with the balcony doors wide open, the fresh air from outside washing over them and encouraging them to curl closer for warmth.

 

Despite having lived for three and a half decades before he met Freddie, he still felt at times like a teenager in his first relationship. Freddie had a habit of throwing him entirely, always presenting new challenges and puzzles and then being oh-so-happy when Jim solved them. He always remembered the way that Freddie had clutched at him when he had to leave in the mornings for work, completely wordless and with a look of worry on his face. That look had plagued him during his work days, made him rush home to check that everything was okay as soon as the clock struck twelve. He had been so relieved to find that he was seeking a kiss, an “I love you”, the reassurance that he could carry throughout the day.

 

Jim let his fingers trace Freddie’s cheekbone as the words left his lips again, the words coming so naturally to him, warm like the first cup of tea on a cold morning, velvet-smooth and honey-sweet. He ran his thumb over Freddie’s lower lip and the other man kissed the pad of it gently, the touch feather-light and so soft, seeming to express emotions that couldn’t be otherwise shown.

 

Freddie moved again, the heavy blanket slipping off his shoulder as he rolled onto his front, chest to chest with his lover. “I love you, too.” He murmured, the words rolling off his tongue, feeling like cashmere and tasting like the butterscotch candies that he loved so much. He moved forward, catching Jim’s lips in a kiss, lazy and languid like the spirit of the afternoon that possessed them both. The kiss had none of Freddie’s usual hunger, it wasn’t broken for words or gestures that could possibly increase the pace of their afternoon. Instead it was slow and it was chaste, somehow perfectly mimicking the atmosphere between the two men.

 

“How are you doing, love?” Jim asked once they had broken away and Freddie had brought the blanket up higher again, the weight of it seeming to bring so much calm to the usual frantic energy of his body. Jim had made it a habit to check it with Freddie every so often, and the time now seemed so ripe for an honest conversation, once where Freddie didn’t have to hide anything for fear of embarrassment. Freddie, in turn, appreciated the opportunity; it was another of those little things that Jim had picked up that separated him from anyone else, the acknowledgement and acceptance that Freddie didn’t often like to talk about his internal emotions when the day had been long or they were in the company of others.

 

“I’m doing better now, my darling.” He said with a smile, closing his eyes again. “We had such an awful row on Friday, I think I need to call Roger to apologise. He was right, but you know what I’m like in arguments.” He added a laugh: the sound was rich and thick, the self-deprecation drowned by the understanding. He lay back, considering his words, rolling them around his tongue before he next spoke. “I missed you last Sunday, while you were in Ireland. Tiffany lay with me, but she’s not quite the same.”

 

Jim smiled to himself, pressing a lazy kiss to the back of his hand. “The wedding was good fun.” He said, taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly. Freddie grabbed the cigarettes as he listened, carefully lighting one and taking a long draw. “I’ll get around to telling the family about you eventually-” His tone was teasing, and Freddie laughed - he understood that opening up about sexuality was hard, and especially when your boyfriend happened to be Freddie Mercury. “And then I’ll take you over to Ireland. You’ll like it there.” He said, his voice laced with certainty.

 

“Tell me?” Freddie asked quietly, blowing the smoke towards the door and watching it catch the golden-hour sunshine on its way out. His guilty pleasure was listening to Jim talk, but especially about Ireland: his accent seemed to thicken, his voice was filled with nothing but delight and joy.

 

Jim hummed in response, taking the cigarette away from Freddie and taking a long drag on it before starting to talk. “It was my sister’s wedding. She was telling me, actually- she’s got tickets to one of your gigs in Dublin. She wants me to go with her.” His laugh was lazy but fluid, filling all the air around Freddie, bouncing through his skin and flooding him with happiness.

 

“You should go, darling.” He teased, taking the cigarette back. “We’re pretty damn good, you know? Plus, it’ll be nice to have a man to take home afterwards. The gay scene over there is terrible.” He smirked and Jim swatted him playfully.

 

“I think I will. It’ll be strange to watch you up there.” He said mindfully. “You know, I always wonder what they’ll think when I tell them.” He chuckled, kissing Freddie’s cheek as he moved back up to sit face to face with Jim.

 

“They’ll think I’ve corrupted their good little boy.” Freddie replied with a grin, as though he was enjoying that fact. “There he was, a good honest hairdresser, never stepping out of line, and I send him back as a Heaven boy with a thing for legs.”

 

Jim laughed as he sat up, Freddie moving to sit beside him. Freddie moved Jim’s arm so that it was wrapping around him, not prepared yet to give up that physical contact that was so grounding and so reassuring. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Mercury? To be seen as the spawn of the devil. Oh look, it’s debauchery himself!” He joked, poking Freddie’s pink cheek.

 

“I like that you can be yourself here.” Freddie grinned as he leaned up to kiss Jim properly. “I like that London lets you be whatever you want to be.” He wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck, kissing him with more passion this time, fingers threading through his hair. “I like that we can lead these busy little inconsequential lives, and that you still take your Sunday afternoons to lie in bed with a cup of tea and a biscuit and to tell me about your family.” His voice softened, one hand coming to cup Jim’s cheek.

 

“I think about it all week.” Jim admitted with a soft smile. “When I’ve got a stressful client, or I’m too tired to concentrate, or I’ve been put on cleaning. I sit there, and I think about this.”

 

“What specifically?” Freddie asked, pausing right where he was to listen.

 

“I think about how warm you are. I think about how you seem to fit in all the right places, how you always seem to know which bits of my back are tense. I wonder what patterns you’ll draw this week, whether you’ll use your fingers or paint or a biro or a permanent marker. I think about my favourite things you’ve drawn, about that time that you drew that huge rose over my side and I fell asleep halfway through. I’ve half a mind to get that tattooed.” Freddie’s delighted laugh made his cheeks flush with warmth. “I think about the way that you talk when you get tired. Your voice goes deeper and you loll your head against my chest instead of looking in my eyes like you usually do. I think about how some weeks you lie to lie on me, some next to me, some at the foot of the bed while you draw, and how you always have to be touching me in some way.”

 

Freddie leaned forward and kissed Jim slowly. “I think about you too.” He said quietly. “When I’m stressed in the studio, or the others are winding me up, or I have to do a stupid press conference. I always think about how it feels to be laying here, lazy, how soft your skin is when I lie against you. I wonder if you’ll wear a shirt that’ll muffle your heartbeat or if I’ll be able to hear it properly. I try to guess if you’ll drink tea or coffee, what your lips will taste like when I kiss you. I wonder if you’ll want to be out on the balcony, if you’ll want the doors open, if you want them closed because you’re already cold and you don’t want to freeze to death, thank you very much.” Freddie laughed. “I think about how much of a fuss you’ll make before I convince you. If you’ll fall back into bed when you see that I’m still here, or if I’ll have to try and convince you with hugs and promises of tea and kisses. If I have any drawings, I’ll think about them. I’ll worry about if you mind when I use pen, and then I assume that you’d tell me if you didn’t like it.” He smiled, heavy-lidded eyes glancing over his face quickly. 

 

Jim lost track of time as Freddie kissed him again, hands tracing over his skin slowly, exploring every peak of bone and dip of skin and tracing the firm parts where he had gained bruises throughout the week. Freddie combed his fingers through Jim’s hair, enjoying the blunt cut ends as he dragged his fingers through. “Your Sunday afternoon philosophy is divine, my love.” Jim murmured quietly and Freddie smiled, trailing the kisses over his jawline.

 

“You can do it by yourself, you know.” Freddie said quietly. “I used to, all the time. Me, the cats, the piano or a painting. Complete self-indulgence, my favourite record, a mug of tea balanced precariously on the footboard of the bed.” He smiled as he watched Jim paint the picture in his mind and the smile it elicited. “It’s always better with someone else. It’s nice to have somebody else who cares enough to listen to the stories from your week, to check in on you after a stressful time to check you’re still kicking.”

 

Jim smiled and kissed Freddie’s lower lip slowly, taking his time. “I’ll always look after you, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little drabble, I promise that updates of my actual fics are coming soon! I'm in exam season for another week, so I'll try and post a little more regularly when I don't have to cram every evening. As always, please leave me a comment if you enjoyed, and if you're excited for this series - kudos are much appreciated too! x


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